


Baga

by Rebecca Hb (beckyh2112)



Category: Robin McKinley - Damar series
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:52:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckyh2112/pseuds/Rebecca%20Hb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aerin, daughter of Harimad-sol, deals with the laprun-minta of the year - a bloody-minded woman from near the Bledfi Gap named Orzala.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baga

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quasar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quasar/gifts).



"Baga," Aerin's mother said as she watched the lapruni fight. _Butcher._

Aerin Amelia looked the woman her mother was watching, really looked at her. Her horse was a fine white-socked bay, not so fine as the horses Aerin had grown up with all her life but certainly a horse to be proud of. Her sash was a brilliant turquoise blue, uncut after seven fights so far. If this fight went as Aerin expected, it would be uncut after the eighth too.

The woman's sword was bloody.

Not very much so, not as Aerin had seen her older brother's sword after the skirmish on the northern border. But the laprun woman cut her opponents, scored them on the face or the wrist before taking their sashes.

Baga. Unskilled.

The woman's arm flashed out, her sword catching her opponent's near the guard. She twisted her wrist and heaved, disarming the man. Quick as a snake, her blade bit his wrist then twisted to cut his sash. The kysin's whistle blew, and the woman settled back on her horse, face impassive.

"No," Aerin said thoughtfully, "I think she's doing it deliberately. She never cuts very deep, you notice."

Her mother glanced at her and Sungold's ears flicked back. The big chestnut did not seem to have any other opinion on his rider's daughter, but Aerin found she couldn't quite meet her mother's eyes. They were too yellow, and she didn't want the headache of their _kelar_ striving against each other.

She rubbed Westwind's neck as she felt him tense in response to her. Slowly, her horse relaxed, though not as much as he had been before she made that comment.

The woman had taken her tenth sash when Aerin looked up again.

_She is going to be the laprun-minta,_ Aerin thought, _And no one will be happy with that at all._

The khysin blew his whistle, and the woman fought on.

***

Near-dusk, Aerin urged Westwind forward. She said not a word to her mother, not a word to the kysins. She didn't need to; it was the right of royalty to face the laprun-minta in the final round of combat. Her mother might have taken it, should have taken it but Aerin **needed** to taste this woman's sword against her own.

The khysin blew his whistle.

Aerin feinted Westwind to the right, forward, and her sword met the laprun woman's shield. Her own shield just barely blocked the woman's sword, then they broke past each other, whirled, came back around. Her _kelar_ clawed hooks in her scalp - demon-blood. Thidik. Half-North.

The next pass, Aerin looked very close at the woman. Their swords crossed, shields locked, and all she could think was, _She has goat's eyes. How odd._

They broke apart a second time. The flanks of the woman's horse were lathered, and his nostrils were wide and red. A smile that flashed teeth was slowly rising on her face.

Aerin could not help but meet that smile with one of her own.

The third time they clashed, Aerin did not relent, did not let their shields break lock. She parried, feinted, drove her sword high- Lashed out. Blood spattered her blade, and she shifted to hook her shield just so- Heaved the laprun woman from the saddle, cut her fine turquoise slash.

The khysin's whistle blew.

The woman gazed up at her, blood running down her face from the cut on her forehead. She grinned. Aerin looked down at her and thought with a faint sense of shock, _She is **pretty** when she smiles._

"What is your name?" She asked the woman quietly.

"Orzala."

"Orzala," Aerin repeated, tasting the name. "Where are you from?"

The woman named a village that took Aerin a few moments to place. Near the Bledfi Gap. Oh yes, that explained much. Though not why her mother raised her. Many Damaran women would have... chosen not to keep such a child.

***

There was a feast the next night to honor the lapruni and especially the laprun-minta. But Aerin thought the atmosphere was a little off, and her brothers agreed with her. There was an edginess in the people around Orzala, in the people honoring her as the laprun-minta.

"She drew blood on every opponent," Tor Mathin remarked. "Of course no one's happy that she's the most skilled."

"She did it deliberately," Aerin protested.

"I know. That's what makes it worse."

Aerin sulked and ignored her older brother, her eyes flicking back to the laprun-minta. _She is pretty, so pretty and strange and fierce._

Orzala raised her eyes to meet Aerin's, and even this far away they seemed uncanny. She smiled, though, and something encouraged Aerin to get up and go to her. The hall was all a'swirl with people because of the feast, people of the city and families of the lapruni crowded in to celebrate those who had fought. In all the tumult, Aerin's red hair did not stand out, and she settled herself next to the laprun-minta.

"You didn't seem like you were enjoying yourself," Orzala commented as she filled a plate and handed it to Aerin.

Aerin shook her head, suddenly finding herself without words.

"You fight well."

Aerin nodded. "All my family does."

"So they say." Orzala's gaze flicked to Corlath and Harimad at the head of the hall and the Riders arrayed around them. "There are many, many stories out there about your mother and father. Even some of your brother." She bit into a chunk of bread. "When are you going to make some of your own?"

"I don't know," Aerin said quietly, breaking off a piece of bread herself. "Tor has ridden the border for three years, Jack is becoming a horseman to surpass Mother, and Hari is learning the bow from Aunt Kentarre."

"Sounds like that leaves you the Outlanders," Orzala said blithely.

Aerin blinked and looked at the other woman.

"...What?"

She grinned. "I could do that, I think."

"Someone has to." Orzala resettled herself in her seat, her knee coming to rest against Aerin's. "They're nice enough folks, but they're... pushy," she said, obviously substituting a politer term. "Though I wouldn't mind having some of their guns."

"The _kelar_ doesn't like those."

"Still wouldn't mind having some."

Aerin nodded, her hand creeping down to rest on her knee, fingertips just barely touching Orzala. "I suppose if you aren't in a battle of Gifts, they would be useful."

"Reach out and touch someone," Orzala said. "Even better than a bow."

"You just like better ways to fight," Aerin replied, reaching for a piece of cheese.

Orzala paused, and for a moment, Aerin feared she had said something to anger the woman. But she shrugged. "Yes, and I do. I'm not good for much else, but when I put a man down, he stays down."

Aerin's hand crept to Orzala's knee and squeezed.

***

They remained sitting together long after the feast was over, talking quietly. Aerin rested her hand on Orzala's knee, and Orzala's shoulder pushed againsts hers. The food was long-cleared and many people long-gone from the hall, though it was not entirely empty.

"Why did you draw blood in every fight?" Aerin asked softly, her eyes fluttering to ward off sleep.

"Because I had the skill to do so," Orzala said, turning to look at her. She froze as her eyes landed on Aerin, and a thrill ran through the redhead at the intensity in those strange eyes.

"So you did," Aerin said, feeling a bit silly as soon as the words were out of her mouth. But she couldn't take her eyes off Orzala's, and it was so easy to lean in-

Their mouths met in a kiss. It was a kiss like Aerin had never experienced before, hot and demanding. Orzala's tongue flickered against her lips, and she opened her mouth with a soft sound, and then- Aerin whined wordlessly when Orzala broke away a few minutes later.

"No," Orzala said firmly, shifting away from Aerin. "No more."

"Why not?" Aerin leaned forward, eyes on Orzala's mouth, on the way her chest moved as she sucked in breaths.

"Because I wouldn't _stop_, and I know **exactly** what they do to people who take a maiden's virginity."

A flood of warmth spread through Aerin at that admission. Orzala wanted her. Orzala wanted her badly.

Orzala couldn't have her for exactly the reason she'd said. It would have been different if Aerin had a husband, but she was a maiden still and a princess, and the _theft_ Orzala would commit by sleeping with her was too great. The punishment would be unimaginable.

"I'm sorry." Aerin shifted back, turning away from the other woman. "I wasn't thinking."

Orzala reached out to cup her cheek. "If you- Heh, this is going to sound arrogant, but if you're still interested once you're married, come out to my village. I'm a patient woman."

Aerin shivered at her touch and the hunger in her voice. She didn't know if she was a patient woman, not with the possibilities laid out ahead of her. She did know that if she stayed with Orzala for much longer, the laws would be damned.

"I should go," she said softly, rising and ignoring the flash of hurt across the other woman's face. "Good night. Safe journeys."

"Good night," Orzala echoed, and Aerin left her there in the feast-hall.

**-End-**


End file.
